Dawn

Jeremiah was exhausted by the time dawn broke and the flow of Bunyips fully stopped. During the night after the boy had disappeared the number of Bunyips flowing in through the breach lessened. It never stopped completely but it became manageable for him to stem the tides alone. Where Eli and Daniel went he didn't know. He had attributed at first the lessening of the horde to the boy's efforts but the longer the night dragged on he grew more concerned. When the boy had first disappeared over the wall he had heard the wild fighting. But it wasn't long before that sound died out. Against all odds, he still believed it was because the boy had simply pushed through the horde. Moving too far away for him to hear over the sound of his own fighting. But deep down he knew the odds of that being true were slim.

"Damn fool boy, done be wasting his life chasing money of all things. And where the hell be those damned cousins of mine?" Jeremiah was currently sitting on a pile of Bunyip corpses ignoring the vile smell and even worse sensation of the squishy bloody mound soaking through his pants. By that point he was so covered in blood he could have given D a run for his money. Spiking his blood slicked blade into the ground he used it as a walking stick to pull himself up with a groan. His arms felt like lead. Every inch of his body was sore and stiff from an entire night of swinging his sword. Just standing up caused his head to swim momentarily with fatigue. "I'm too old for this. Definitely need to convince the boy to stay around." Leaning backwards to stretch out his back and hips he groaned. "Damn you father time!"

Snapping forward his head went woozy as he glared at the gate. A heavy loud banging had startled him. Raising a wobbling blade with arms that burned the leader of Lender's Mire crept forward towards the gate. "Who be there?"

"D." Relief washed away the brief shock as he lowered his falchion while stepping closure to the gate.

"How do I know it be you?" Jeremiah hesitated, normally he'd climb up to the platform to peek down but he didn't think he could make it up the stairs.

"You better not be trying to get out of paying me!" The harsh reply was accompanied by a bit of a growl making the older man smile. Moving towards the wheel that would slide back the bars that held the door secure he even chuckled.

"Yeah, it definitely be you boy. I be glad you made it! Foolish of you to go over the walls! What you be thinking?" As the bar finally slid free of its brackets Jeremiah grunted out. "It be unlocked. I've not the energy left to open it. That be on you."

Jeremiah looked on in both shock and awe at the boy as he pushed through the gate before turning to close it behind him. His clothes were little more than tattered scraps of cloth stuck to his body with the thick layers of congealed Bunyip blood. His hair was plastered to his head with so much blood it looked almost like a helmet. Even with the layers of gore clinging to his body the lack of clothing made it clear to Jeremiah the boy was at least in one piece. And though he moved sluggishly he didn't seem to have any issues. Shaking his head he could only be envious of the boy's scale armor… his scale armor… his… where was his armor?

There was no signs of the heavy scale vest he'd been wearing under his clothes. Jeremiah blinked a few times and leaned forward inspecting him closer but no matter how hard he looked there wasn't anything there. "What happened to your armor boy?" He finally blurted out in confusion.

D froze his hands halfway to the wheel that worked the bar for the gate. For a moment he stood there, his eyes wide and looking like a deer caught before a hunter's drawn bow. In his exhaustion from the night of slaughtering Bunyips, he'd forgotten about maintaining the faux armor when he transformed back. In his defense, he'd pushed through them until they were forced to follow him away from the village. Or at least enough to lessen the burden on the lone defender. He'd swung until his arms, legs, and tail felt as heavy as lead. Then he'd exhaled huge gouts of acidic breath until even his throat burned and nothing but a wheezing cough came out when he tried.

"Uhhh… magic." D blurted out finally, afraid of taking too long to answer.

"What?" Jeremiah asked, confused. His brow knitting causing caked blood to flake free and fall in front of his eyes making him swat at it.

"Magic. Not armor. Just magic." D did his best to sound convincing. Larian had always warned him that his abilities weren't something that could be explained as magic. Any decent mage would be able to spot the truth, that whatever he was doing wasn't a spell, ward, or enchantment of any kind. Now D just hoped that the wastelander didn't know enough about magic to spot his lie. D's paranoia was a bit unnecessary. Larian judged most mages on his own scale, for an arch mage like him D's strange abilities were plan enough to identify as something outside of magic convention. But for most mages, unless they were allowed to perform both extensive analyses and experiments his lies could fool many. Magic was rare and not fully understood after all.

So it was of little surprise when Jeremiah grunted. "Oh, magic? Can ya be doing it for me too?"

D let out his breath and started to work the wheel sliding the bar back across the gate. "No." He answered honestly. Relieved he wouldn't have to kill the man, it would be a pain to have worked so hard to keep him alive only to have to kill him… before being paid.